


Caged

by TheProfoundBlade



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brownham, Dominance, Fear, Fear Play, Fighting for Dominance, I honestly don't know how to tag this yet, M/M, Multi, gayhawks - Freeform, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-06 14:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfoundBlade/pseuds/TheProfoundBlade
Summary: Will has a moment of quiet and solitude in one of the interview cages of the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. That solitude is interrupted by a couple of pairs of predatory eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Hannibal fiction, so. Be kind to me.
> 
> Also I apologize for spelling errors and tenses that are being weird - I wrote the first draft in present tense and edited to past, but some still slipped. I'm catching more and more errors here and there, so. Yeah. It happens. 
> 
> Chapter 2 will be released soon-ish, if there's interest in more of this cage circling dominance fighting.

The footsteps from expensive Italian leather shoes hitting clean, mosaiced marble floors faded slowly as the owner of said shoes, said footsteps, made his way out of the long hall of empty cages. Well, all cages were empty but one. Bathed in pale, clouded sunlight sat Will Graham, in the cage, on a stool, staring blankly ahead of himself as the person he had just talked to had gone from view. No reason to look after him, no reason to look around for something else to fill his imagination; this man already snaked through every crevice and coiled, curled ridge of Will’s inflamed mind, effortlessly and all-consuming. 

Electronic and triple secured locks clicked closed and secured loudly through the long hall. He was alone then. The guards had gone to lunch, the orderly left to give Mr. Graham some privacy after a draining conversation - and, to give Chilton the space to record any possible mutterings and phrases which might spill from Will’s lips in his solitude. Sometimes, this solitude brought vocal truths about actions, and conditions. About killers. Of all kinds.

Will drew a long breath and his eyes closed slowly as he relaxed, embracing the quiet for the moment. Even though his cellmates were relatively silent, this was still… better. Even with watchful eyes, cameras in every angle, and microphones in every corner of this cage, this room. 

There was hot breath that hit his face, then, after a short moment in his peace and quiet. It smelled like deep red wine, and the forest after heavy rain. When Will’s eyes opened again he found himself a little shocked, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Doctor Lecter,” he said, quietly, muted even in his own head, “I thought you left…”

Dark, honey-golden amber eyes held Will’s gaze for a long moment, and he swallowed thick as he felt the eyes of a predator map him out, sketching every inch of him. There was a hunger there, behind those unmoving pupils, and it made Will squirm in his seat. A heat ran down his spine, slowly, as he tried to keep his breath steady. Were the cameras off? What of the microphones? 

“Mr. Graham,” a masculine, slightly nasal voice called from behind him. That breath wass warm, too, and smelled clinical; Listerine and breath mints, attempting to mask the true scent of this person. “Doctor Lecter said he had some ‘unfinished business’ he had to come solve before he left. Don’t worry. I’m here to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.” 

It was the orderly, the nurse, the guy always standing around in the background. What was his name? Did he even have a name? Will felt frozen in place, a deer caught in deadly headlights, because the predatory gaze he was met with in front of him was burning just as intensely into the back of his skull. He was a rat in a humane trap, caught with no escape and the bait eaten, and the cunning fox and the eager bloodhound were licking their lips and baring their teeth at one another, ready to fight over who gets to break the poor vermin’s neck. 

“I assure you, Mr. Brown, I am not here to harm Will in any manner,” Hannibal finally spoke. It was clear, sharp, like the angles of his cheekbones and the light that gets cut on them. Will swallowed again, staring straight ahead of him, trying to look past Hannibal. It was impossible, it always was, his presence crowding every inch of his vision.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Mr. Brown- Matthew, was it Matthew? Will heard it once or twice, he was sure- said in a melodic tone. The lisp he usually carried was gone. The pretence, gone. He pulled the first syllable long, like taffy, a darkness hiding underneath his words. 

Will felt more constricted in this cage with his arms and legs free than he did wearing the straight jacket. There was no place to hide here, no place to duck if they decided to unlock their jaws and fight to consume him first. He knew this was where it was heading.

“I hear all kinds of things about you, Doctor Lecter,” Matthew continued, almost as smooth as deep, dark molasses. His hot breath moved as he spoke, from the soft mound of Will’s spine to the side of his neck. He was moving. Will saw Hannibal move in the opposite direction, and saw those attentive, ever-calculating eyes having shifted their focus behind Will. The hunters were now meeting eye to eye. The heat running down Will’s spine grew hotter, a sensation he did not wish to recognize building in his core. Fear and… something else entirely.

“I would be surprised if you did not,” Hannibal retorted, cold, flat. “After all. This is an institute for the criminally insane. I have treated some of the residents here. It would be odd if not one decides to speak ill of their psychiatrists, shift some of the blame off of themselves.” 

“Ohh, no no. Nothing like that, no,” Matthew smirked. He was standing in view of Will, and Will couldn’t help but notice the slight curl of thin lips. Hannibal’s challenger found this fun. Hannibal found it to be a hindrance to what he was there to do, an annoyance. “I think they're all a little scared of you. No, doctor, I keep hearing that you’re impossible to catch. That they can’t see you, because you’re like smoke, and hiding just outside their peripheral vision--” 

Long, strong fingers moved in a gesture next to Matthew’s widened eyes, mocking those he spoke of, almost. Will was trying his best to keep his eyes straight ahead, keeping still. Hannibal’s tall frame shielded Will from the light for a moment and he was certain he saw the sharp lines of antlers cast alongside Hannibal’s shadow.

“Gotta say… One smokescreen to another.. I see you pretty clear…”  
“And yet, you say nothing,” Hannibal interrupted.  
“Oh, I don't need to say anything. You're the prideful kind, Doctor Lecter. Mr. Graham sees that, too. I know he does.” 

He did. He knew. Hannibal was the Ripper, and Will had been his scapegoat the last long, long while. The treatment Chilton had tried on him worked, and worked too well, memories bleeding into his awake mind even more than when he was asleep. Scenes he had been in suddenly clear, and he found himself standing in the corners of rooms seeing them unfold. His seizure, and Gideon.

“Nothing wrong with taking pride in your work, don't get me wrong. But that pride will be your downfall, Doctor. We all have our uuh... weaknesses..” 

Will couldn’t see him at this point, but he knew Hannibal was smiling; not in amusement, or in agreement, no, but the kind of a smile a chimpanzee sends his opponent: a threat, a challenge. A toothless smile, still; Hannibal hardly ever smiled with his teeth showing. Will saw Matthew's eyes lower, a devilish quality to his glare and attitude as well. Didn't Chilton see this, why wasn't he sending in guards? Even just accidentally, send someone, anyone, the sharks were circling around the cage and Will feared losing something. 

“Mr. Brown,” Hannibal spoke after a moment of them simply circling Will, “it seems to me you perceive yourself to be highly observant, and empathetic towards Will. Towards me. Has Chilton treated you, as well, by chance? Imposed these thoughts of a higher.. Far more intelligent self in your easily impressionable mind? Perhaps you imagine yourself a psychiatrist in your own right? Or, a highly empathetic killer such as Will here- although I would have to warn you. Being at Will’s level requires skill, and elegance. Something I cannot imagine a man of your stature having, even if you were truly brainwashed.”

“Oh, Doctor _Lecter_ ,” the orderly said with faked offence in his voice. He raised a hand to his chest and now they were on either side of Will, Hannibal’s shoulder towards him while Matthew was showing his chest with his hand laid flat against it. They were fighting for that dominance, clearly, who would get the first bite. 

“What is this,” Will finally asked, the heat in his body making a faint blush rise on his throat. “I don’t want either of you here--”

“That’s not up to you,” both of them said without losing eye-contact with each other, their voices melting into something almost bestial. It made Will shiver, and a quiet pant escaped him, perhaps more wanton than he wanted it to be. He was lost, he knew it, there was no way out of this situation, this cage. He didn’t feel his fight or flight instinct kick in, though, he was simply frozen - even if the heat of their eyes and the dominance reeking from them, battling in the air in the small cage, felt as though it was making him scorching hot from head to toe. 

They circled him some more, for what seemed like eternity, and Will felt his body starting to shake more and more viciously, his eyes dropping to a close as anxiety started creeping in; a black cat in the darkness, bright, predatory eyes glinting in the outskirts of his brain. He blinked, seeing them, the men that warp into monsters, that warp in to dark creatures, their true selves. The all too familiar antlers grew from Hannibal’s head, long and sharp and his face became blacker than tar found in the darkest caves at midnight. Matthew grew a beak, sharp, short and dangerous, and thick plumes of dark gray feathers push through his skin. Their eyes were dark, without humanity, and Will started sweating, shaking, started to see it happening, started to feel their hands push in past the bars of his cage. Their fingers curled around him, their hands, multiple hands, they become hooves, claws, weapons, and Will panted and trashed in his seat as he could feel them starting to pull at his skin, grab his hair, force his head back, grip his throat--- 

“Mr. Graham,” that nasally voice called, but it was lispy, higher pitched than just moments earlier. It was hazy, far away, calling Will from the end of a long, dark tunnel. He felt the sharp tip of a beak poke his shoulder, and he flinched away, up from his seat, and suddenly the monsters were gone and it was raining outside. There was a deep, rumbling thunder, and Will tried to blink out of his mind, into reality - if this was reality, after all. Matthew was standing there, on the other side of the cage, and he had been patting Will on the shoulder, looking at him with confusion.

“Got lost in your imagination again?” the orderly asked, and his forest green eyes scanned Will from head to toe, stopping for half a second around Will’s midst. Will was painfully aware of what he was looking at, and turned around a little, a hand falling to shield himself. The orderly, Matthew - it was his name and Will was certain of it now, his mind having confirmed it - gestured with two wide fingers for Will to come back to him, a sided smirk on his face that Will tried not to take note of. 

“Need to get you back to your cell, Mr. Graham. Dinnertime’s soon.” 

Will did his best to sleep with his eyes open that night, unsure if he was ready to enter that cage again so soon.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of days came and went and Will wasn't thrown in the cage - mentally or physically. Even though Alana made regular visits, and Hannibal wasn't opposed to them either, Will found himself alone. A lot. 

It was both comfortable, and unnerving. Not opposed to solitary and going days without human contact, this was still a different kind of loneliness. There were eyes everywhere, and not always visible; ears listening to every breath, grunt, quiet moan… he was alone, but never truly. The orderlies would rotate every couple of days, and Will hadn't seen Mr. Brown - Matthew - for a while. 

_For the better_ , he thought as he sat in his cell this morning, grumbling to himself over the unpleasant sleep. He didn't need to look more at this guy, if he was leaving imprints like that in his mind. The distinct sound of the metal food cart being pulled over the floor had him sighing; another round of tasteless, boring breakfast on its way. 

The cart stopped and the tray was pulled from it, and out of pure routine at this point, Will stood and moved to the bars to reach for the tray, not looking at the orderly delivering the food. 

“Looks like you had a rough night, Mr. Graham,” Matthew's lisping voice spoke a little quiet. Will blinked, looking up to meet his gaze. There were no feathers, and no beak on his face. Just a slanted smile, a little timid looking at that, and Will had to clear his throat before answering. 

“Sleeping on what best could be described as cold concrete without any blankets or pillows can hardly give a proper sleep,” he muttered and took the tray. Matthew kept standing there. 

“...Do you… Need something?” Will asked with his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Was he already back in his mind again? It didn't feel like it, even if it was sometimes hard to tell.

“Mno, no not me. But you could get a blanket, you know,” the orderly said with a shrug, looking up towards the booth where his co-worker was sitting behind thick glass under a sickly, clinical bright light at the control station. He was half asleep, not noticing anything. 

“How?”  
“Bartering.”  
“I have nothing to barter with,” Will huffed and sat down on the poor excuse of a bed, setting the tray on his thighs. “Unless you want to trade horrifying memories and occasional night terrors with an undoubtedly terribly itchy woolen blanket left here from the 70s.” 

Matthew chuckled then, and it didn't sound like the same person. It made Will look up at him again, and the orderly sighed as he took a step closer to the bars. 

“I'll trade you a blanket.. A _good one_.. For a story.”  
“A _story_?”  
“Uhuh,” Matthew mused, that same melodic tone to it as his voice had been in Will’s mental shark cage a while ago. “From the FBI. You must know about all the gruesome shit they get to deal with, some cool crimes and murders and all that. So... A good story for a good blanket.” 

Will scoffed, shaking his head with a smile of disbelief curling the edges of his lips. Of course he would meet the strangest people, they gravitated towards him, or stayed in constant orbit, like the moons of Saturn: almost too many to count. Matthew stood there for another short moment, even though Will had turned his attention away from him entirely. There was a small sigh, and the sound of a firm knuckle tapping against the metal bars a couple of times had Will look to his side again.

“Think about it, hm? You enjoy your breakfast now, Mr. Graham,” Matthew said with a small nod, too subtle, too confident and controlled to fit this mousey, timid character he was acting like. Will knew there had to be more behind this, behind that clinical scent of Listerine and hand sanitizer.

⏤⏤⏤ ◉ ⏤⏤⏤

He was here again, Hannibal. Standing in front of the cage, which was dimly lit. It had to be midnight, maybe even later than that, the prison quiet and dark and no one here but them. Will had stopped fearing the good doctor, though, he knew now with certainty and clarity brings safety, brings strength to withstand the fear. The shadows of the metal bars drew thick, near-black lines down Hannibal’s slender face, shielding the shine of his bright eyes, that hunger from the other night in the cage back and clear as day.

This time, Will wasn’t trying to look away, or ignore it. He was meeting the gaze, firm and solid, trying his best to be unaffected. Hannibal thrived on reactions, any and all, small and giant. It was better to simply be unmoving, uncaring; ice, and the deepest glaciers. 

He heard wings fluttering, clapping behind him. Matthew. 

Hannibal raised his chin a little to look past Will, who was sitting still in the middle of the cage. A shine of annoyance struck through those amber eyes, lightning in a dark night, swift and with no sound, having struck so far away the thunder was swallowed by the distance, the thick clouds. 

“Can’t seem to leave Mr. Graham alone huh,” Matthew noted. There was no lisp, just confidence, enough to stand up to Hannibal at least. Even though Will started to feel trapped again, he also felt protected somehow. Hawks ate snakes, after all, pecked out their eyes and bit at their necks. A worthy fight, some would say. 

“I come here because Will wants me to,” Hannibal said in an equally confident tone, as though it was fact. In a way, it was true. 

“We have rules here, Doctor Lecter. Can’t just come here whenever you want.”  
“You will find that I do what I please.”  
“Oh I don’t doubt that. Not one bit.”

The circling had begun again and Will felt the same rush of heat down his spine, thrill thundering through his chest. The predators’ eyes were locked on each other through the dark bars of his cage and electricity was sparking through the air, down through Will’s esophagus and into the pit of his stomach, further down to his groin, making his toes crack and tensen. 

He felt like a small fish in the deep water seas, having swam down here because of something alluring. Not a bright bulb, but the need to see the dark, to feel it clench around him and his slighter body. And now, two anglerfish were circling him and showing off their teeth to each other again, waving their little bio-organic light bulbs in his face to have him look at them, not the other. 

This time, Will didn’t flinch when a hand pushed past the bars to grab a hold of him. It was Hannibal, and his hand was warm, grasping at Will’s throat and clenching slightly. The circling had stopped and Matthew was staring down his opponent with his body as close to the cage it could be without being forcefully pressed against it. He was itching to react, Will could tell, hands clenching and head tilting eerily to one side, the smirk on his face gone to make room for a tight, straight line. 

He was a bloodhound, Will saw it now. One whistle and he would leap towards the truffle eating pig hiding behind the tree trunks in the snow covered forest. Will didn’t understand why, but he felt this protectiveness flow through every vein in Matthew’s body, and it had him panting as the grip around his throat tightened.

“Not allowed to touch the inmates,” Matthew snarled under his breath. Will raised a hand to grab against Hannibal’s wrist, eyes fluttering but not closing. He wanted to be here, wanted to see.  
“I do what I please, Mr. Brown.”  
“Get your hands _off_ the inmate, Doctor Lecter.” 

Just as the first time, their voices had started to bleed into something far darker, deeper, beasts growling at each other over a piece of meat. Hannibal started clenching tighter around Will’s throat, staring down the orderly with a cocky yet calm energy, and as Will started to choke, shake and gasp, Matthew snarled loudly.

There was another clap of wings, right by Will’s ear as he felt his whole body violently shake, and his eyes fell to a close again as the loud screech of a bird sounded so loudly in the electric air in the cage. 

“Think you could have _a lot_ of people write lotsa interesting books if they could read your mind, Mr. Graham,” Matthew’s lispy voice said from behind Will. This time, Will didn’t flinch or fight the sudden shift back to reality, but nonetheless shifted in his seat and laid his hands over his groin as he swallowed thick, feeling a drop of sweat roll down from his unruly curls. 

“I doubt that,” Will panted as a reply.  
“The best books are from the most crazy people, you know.”  
“You find me crazy, then?” was asked as Will turned his head over his shoulder a little, not able to see Matthew. But he knew he was there. Watching over him, like a hawk.

“Wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. At least a little crazy.”  
“Hm,” Will hummed, nodding a little as he leaned back against the cold bars. “I suppose that’s true.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You say there are miles between what we have and what friendship is. Yet you summon me here more often than a lonely mother would her child, or a twin his sibling. Makes one wonder if you are lying when the microphones are on, so Chilton will not hear.”

Will scoffed at Hannibal’s remark, rising to a stand in the small cage. It was a cold day, the heat not yet turned on in this god forsaken facility. Will had yet to get his blanket, but he had yet to tell a story to Matthew, either. Hannibal was seated on a small chair a good length away from the iron cage, the risk and hazard of inmates attacking or pissing on their visitors apparently too grand and common these days for the staff to allow anyone past the small lines on the floor. They were cut into the floor, nothing was painted on. Chilton liked the small details, Will had discovered; nothing about this place was sloppy, or old, or even ugly. 

“It makes one wonder why you keep showing up,” Will retorted, standing calm and collected in the middle of the cage. “Like a lovesick puppy, left in the snow. Whining and whimpering at the loss of interaction, the loss of acceptance-”  
“-biting after the hand that betrayed him, more like.”  
“Betrayal? Is that what you want me to believe now? That I _betrayed_ you?” 

It is the most words they had shared in a long while, certainly after Will started having these sinks into his mind, some twisted fantasy; a dark desire that he refused to admit, refused to acknowledge. Nevertheless, he had to interact with both of the men who seemed to carry human masks to cover something underneath. Matthew had been away for another couple of days, his shifts being two full days at a time, more or less, or so it seemed. Will had started counting the guards, the orderlies, the nurses, started counting the amount of steps they took to reach the end of the corridors with all the cells, how many times they double-checked the locks, listening after what they mumbled under their breaths when they passed the cages. It was not intentional, it was simply impossible not to for him.

With his eyes as hard as steel, Will took a small step forward in the small cage, nearing the man in the seat in front of him, who was looking up at him with an eerie, calm air to him. Disgustingly confident in himself, in his truths. Truths that Will started seeing as the lies they were.

There was a small pecking sound of a bird’s beak on the glass window behind them, casting a small shadow by Will’s feet. Will didn’t notice.

“I find it ironic that you chose the puppy analogy, Will, considering you are well known for your tendency of picking up strays and lost dogs.”

A chuckle, “you are neither a stray or lost in any way, are you, Doctor Lecter?” Will almost bit. “But dogs can be abandoned, still… Especially those who bite those who trusted them.”

A couple of more taps against the glass had Will look over his shoulder, and he saw Matthew’s silhouette under the window, leaned against the cold stone walls. The light bleeding in from the windows was strong, leaving the young man just a barely visible silhouette. But he was there, and he wanted Will to know. He wasn’t alone, and one whistle would be enough to end this, to bring the guest out of the room again. There was a small nod from Matthew, almost impossible to tell, but Will had seen this little nod more and more and read this as Matthew’s true form shining through; an admittance that he was present, his true self, and that he was keenly aware of Will’s situation and his needs. 

A strange comfort, unwelcomed almost as he did not know Matthew at all. But having a weapon at your disposal was likely the smartest option in this situation, with Hannibal having the upper hand. As Hannibal spoke again, Will turned his attention back to him, a clearly annoyed expression on his face.

“There never was a bite, Will.”  
“I feel the ridges of the wounds around my throat, so yes, there was a bite. Others might not see it, but I know, Hannibal. I know.” 

With that, the psychiatrist rose to a stand, standing oh-so-tall and poised as he buttoned his expensive, dark blue jacket and straightened his shirt collar as he took a few steps closer to the cage. There was a screech from outside the window, another tap of the sharp beak against the window. A warning sound, a small alarm.

“Behind the line,” Matthew said in the background. The sounds rung and bounced off the stone walls, making it seem a lot larger than it should. Hannibal merely raised a light eyebrow and remained standing where he was, just a foot between him and Will inside the cage.

“I wonder if you even realize you are doing this,” Hannibal mused, folding his coat over his arm and holding it against his stomach. “You seem to be running straight for destruction, rather than attempting to mend bonds, clarify our situation. Perhaps you really are ill, Will. Perhaps, you do belong here.”

“ _You_ put me here. _You_ made me _sick_. I see absolutely no reason to attempt to mend bonds with you.”

“Behind the line.” Matthew repeated, stern and clear. The tapping on the glass was louder then, and Will sensed the orderly having moved closer from the shadows. Hannibal seemed unaffected, as always, not even reacting in the slightest to Matthew’s words. He only had eyes for Will; that much was clear.

“Then why do you beckon for me, Will? Is there something deep inside you, a darkness reaching out to hold on to something else… someone else who sees that darkness, and does not run away from it?”  
“N-...no,” Will said through grit teeth and felt himself faltering in his otherwise certain stance. Fuck him, fuck him severely, and his perceptiveness, and his ability to open Will’s mind without hardly even touching it. 

“I see it Will-”  
“Behind. The. Line,” Matthew interrupted, rude as it was, and stepped around the cage to stand directly between Hannibal and Will. There didn’t have to be any whistling, or any snapping of fingers. It seemed the orderly simply knew, could sense it on Will’s miniscule stutter and the slight tremble of his left arm. Hannibal stared down at the younger man with disgust; after all, rudeness was one of the worst qualities man could have, in his book.

“When will you learn that your rules do not apply to me… Mr. Brown?” Hannibal said with a cold bite behind his words. He stared down at the younger man, amber eyes squinting in calculation, sizing him up. A small creature, rude and reckless. He would lose those talons of his quicker than he realized, Will imagined Hannibal thinking.

“Quite frankly, I don’t care about rules that much either, _Doctor Lecter_ ,” Matthew replied with mockery coating the soft melodic rhythm of his voice as he spoke Hannibal’s title, his name. He tilted his head and confidently put his hands in his pockets; Hannibal was no threat to him. “But I’m here to guard the inmates… And right now, you’re being too much of a threat for me to accept your presence. So… Before I call the guards and have them drag your self-absorbent ass out of here with force and _drama_ … I suggest you get behind that line. And leave by your own volition. Doctor.” 

Incredibly rude, this display. Will could see it in Hannibal’s eyes, in the way his chin raised just so. It had Will’s body grow extremely warm, that same sensation from earlier events rushing down his spine, his stomach, into his groin. As Hannibal stepped closer, impossibly close to Matthew, Will shuddered violently and gasped, grabbing onto the bars of his cage and letting a wanton moan escape him. Two sets of eyes were directed onto him as he trembled and both felt all-consuming, as though they melted out of their physical shapes and enveloped him entirely - he felt their hands, their breaths, their teeth as they fought for him, every inch of him, and as he stumbled onto the ground he shuddered again, the heat having become scorching and overtaking every inch of his body. He was scared of how good this felt, of how he was trembling with every touch and mark blooming on his skin, of how much of a thrill it felt for sharp spike and curved talon to carve into his skin and take him apart - in a struggle to have more, to have the most, but yet still taking him apart in unity.

“ _A-ah--_ ” 

A jolt of his body woke Will up on his cold bed, facing the wall, hands clutching against the soft bricks. He felt soaked, his hairline shining with a line of sweat beads, a crown he had put on himself, a prince for them to fight over, a prize. Will curled himself together on his bed, painfully aware of the other soaked sensation he was feeling, shame washing over him quicker than summer rain suddenly can appear from a clear sky. Trying to catch his breath, he was becoming aware of how loud he had been breathing, of how his breaths hadn’t just been normal small puffs of quiet air, but aftermaths of the moans in his mind. 

“Kinda wish you had that blanket now, huh?” 

Matthew’s soft lisping voice sounded in the darkness. It sounded close, as though he was standing right by the cell. Will didn’t turn to look, instead he froze. There were no real lights here, not at this hour, but enough moonlight from above that he knew he was visible to the young man. 

“Offer still stands.. Blanket for a story. Another story… and you’ll get warm coffee for breakfast the rest of your sentence.”

Will scrunched his face together in a confused grimace; was he being baited? Or being pampered? He could simply lie and throw something out his sleeve at this young man, and get perks for no real reason. 

“Sleep tight Mr. Graham. Hope your next dream will be as pleasant as the first you had tonight.” 

Will considered his options, considered the offerings and the man he kept meeting in his mind. The mouse in the real world was simply a suit, like the ones Hannibal wore to hide his true self. This time, however… it felt as though Will was one with the authority, and provided something that Matthew seemed to want. 

Will slept a deep, dreamless sleep, and woke up the next morning to the sound of a bird tapping its beak on the window above him.

“Good morning Mr. Graham.”


End file.
